


Lost and Found

by Paganpunk2



Category: Father Brown (2013)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Being Found, Being Lost, First Fight, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Period-Typical Homophobia, Reunion Cuddles, Sullivan Being Hopeless In the Woods, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28822638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paganpunk2/pseuds/Paganpunk2
Summary: When Sullivan gets lost in the woods after his first fight with Sid, he's not sure if he'd rather be found by his angry boyfriend or by the serial killer that no one else believes exists.
Relationships: Sid Carter/Inspector Sullivan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Lost and Found

Sid found him shortly before dusk. “D’you realize,” he demanded as he stomped through the undergrowth, “how many people are out looking for you?”

Sullivan looked up wearily from his seat atop a withered old tree stump. “Five,” he answered frankly. “That’s how many men are usually rostered on for a Tuesday evening, at least.” He seriously doubted anyone else from the village was missing him enough to search the woods this close to dark, although he wouldn’t put it past Sergeant Goodfellow to pull in any extra help he could. The Sergeant did have a tendency to try and live up to his name like that.

Sid stopped a few paces short of him. “It’s a few more than five,” he snapped. “Numbers went up pretty quick once we realized no one’d seen you in going on three days.”

Aggravation flooded Sullivan’s veins. “Nobody should be looking for _me,_ Carter! Everyone should be looking for the serial killer!” The serial killer who had taken three lives now, making each demise look like an accident; the serial killer who could strike again at any moment; the serial killer no one except Sullivan believed existed.

“Yeah, well, some of us thought if we found you we might find them, too!”

That was really just too much. Sullivan leaped to his feet. “Are you accusing _me_ of causing those deaths?” he shouted. “The deaths that you and your precious Father Brown insist weren’t even murders?!”

“I never said they weren’t murders!”

“You never disagreed with Father Brown when he said they weren’t, either!”

“I wasn’t sure! I told you that!”

“And what, now you are?” They were screaming at one another, their enraged and straining faces separated by bare inches. “Now you believe that there _is_ a serial killer, and you think it’s me?”

“No, you stupid twat, now I _know_ there’s a serial killer, and I thought-”

Sid’s expression crumbled. His eyes softened and filled with tears; his lips began to tremble. “...I thought he’d gotten you,” he whispered. A wet trail paved its way towards his chin. “I thought you’d vanished because he’d gotten you, too.”

Oh. “Sid...” The sudden reversal of emotions hit Sullivan like a punch in the gut. He reached up with an unsteady thumb and swept that single tear gently away. “Don’t,” he begged. “It’s not...I’m not...”

“The hell were we fighting over, anyway?” Sid shook his head. “‘Course it wasn’t accidents. It’s bleedin’ Kembleford. No one dies a natural death here.”

“Our statistics are disturbing, yes. But I’m fine. So don’t...don’t cry. Please.”

It had been their first – and, Sullivan fervently hoped as he brushed additional wetness from Sid’s cheeks, their last – serious fight. Sid hadn’t been convinced of the serial killer’s existence despite Sullivan’s repeated explanations. Father Brown hadn’t been able to see the Inspector’s argument, either, and his judgment had reinforced Sid’s doubt. Sullivan, feeling abandoned, had torn into Sid for being more loyal to the Father than he was to their love. This last was a word they’d only recently started using, so his wielding of it as a weapon had been doubly hurtful. The situation had devolved from there, and nasty things had been said by both sides before Sullivan stormed out of the caravan and into the night.

Into the night, and straight into trouble. He couldn’t drive home after the half-bottle of whiskey they’d already split, and he didn’t want to risk being spotted walking drunkenly along the roads. He sure as hell wasn’t going to go back inside and try to patch things over. The only solution was to cut through the trees and make his way back to the village that way.

But Sullivan’s idea of a wild space was one of London’s larger parks. He’d been turned around after about five minutes. As soon as he’d realized that he was disoriented, he’d stopped to consider his options. He had still been close enough to the meadow then, he’d been fairly certain, that staying put and shouting for help would likely summon Sid before long. But he refused to be rescued so ignobly. He’d find his own way out, and if he happened to capture his serial killer along the way, so much the better. By the time he’d realized what an idiot he’d been, it was dawn, and he was truly and thoroughly lost.

Sighing, Sullivan leaned his head against Sid’s hitching shoulder. Arms wrapped around him and squeezed him nearly breathless. “Just stay the hell away from the woods, you should,” Sid murmured against his hair. “They don’t agree with you.”

“I certainly won’t be going into them by myself until we’ve at least caught this murderer.” To say that he’d been jumping at every snap of a twig or skitter of a small animal for the last seventy-two hours would have been an understatement.

“Oh, the Father already took care of that.”

“Well of bloody course he did.” For once – for _once!_ – Sullivan had been the first one to the right answer. He hadn’t known who the killer was, but at least he’d known there was one. Then he’d gotten lost in the forest, and Father Brown had swooped in and solved the case anyway. “...Who was it?”

“Marty Chambers, from over Hambleston.”

He frowned against Sid’s throat. “Wait, really?” Chambers played on the Hambleston cricket team, and he had never struck Sullivan as a potential murderer. “Why?”

“Well, we destroyed them in this year’s match.”

“Yes.”

“And last year’s.”

“Yes?”

“And the year before that’s, though you weren’t here for it. Turns out Marty wasn’t too happy about all that losing. Seems he thought that if Hambleston couldn’t have the better cricket team, they might turn up a better constabulary. So he started killing people on both sides of the line, popping back and forth to keep things equal. His first victim was in Hambleston,” Sid went on, “which I think he did on purpose for the advantage even though he swears he flipped a coin.”

“I’m sorry...” Sullivan pulled back enough to meet Sid’s gaze without leaving the circle of his arms. “Are you telling me that Chambers went on a two-village killing spree as part of a secret competition to see which police station would be able to catch him first?”

“Yeah, that about sums it up.”

“All because Kembleford has won at cricket for three years running?”

“Well...no. Five years.”

“Oh, _five_ years. In that case, his actions are perfectly excusable.”

“Perfectly stupid, you mean. Hambleston was never gonna win a detecting match, were they? Not with the crime-solving squad we’ve got.”

“...I swear, Sid, if you say we were bound to beat them because we have Father Brown...”

“I wasn’t planning to _say_ it, no.” Sid smirked teasingly down at him. “Anyway, you were the star player this time. The rest of us weren’t even convinced there was a killer to go after. If you hadn’t squawked so loud about it and then disappeared, who knows how many more people Chambers might have offed before we all came around. Lucky we had a fight about it, really.”

Sullivan winced. “I suppose so. But we’re luckier that he didn’t go after our cricket team.”

Sid’s eyes widened. “I never even thought of that. Though he’d have to have killed some of his own team to make it look right, wouldn’t he? I don’t think he’d have done that.”

“No, maybe not.” He leaned into Sid once more. “...Sid?”

“Hmm?” He’d begun moving back and forth on the balls of his feet, creating a gentle rocking motion that might easily have put Sullivan to sleep in different circumstances.

“As convenient as it turned out to be this time, I would prefer it if we never had a fight again.”

“A real one, you mean, not a cops-and-robbers one?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah. Let’s not do that again. Although...” A hint of wickedness flashed through his tone, and for a moment his hips rocked a bit more eagerly than did the rest of his body. “...Should get some good make-up sex out of it.”

“Not if you don’t let me have a decent meal and a solid night of sleep first. And a shower. I need a shower. I feel like a pig. What...?!” Sid had begun to make highly realistic oinking noises whilst nuzzling against Sullivan’s ear. “Stop that,” Sullivan ordered, but he was laughing. “It’s disgusting.”

“You’re not disgusting. I’d do you right here, right now. ‘Cept we should probably get back, because it’ll be dark soon and everyone'll want to know you’re not victim number four. Or seven, with Hambleston in. Point is, we should go.”

“Do you know how to get out of here?”

“Yeah. We’re, uh...we’re only about half a mile from the village, actually.”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” He must have been going in circles all this time. “Why did I go into the Navy during the war? At least the Army would have taught me how to find my way in the woods.”

“I’m sorry,” Sid chuckled. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t. I’ll say I found you up Black Hill. I still get turned around up there sometimes. That’s a respectable place to get lost.”

“Thank you.”

“There’s a fee for the service, though.”

“I’d think you were ill if there wasn’t. What is it?”

“Just a kiss.”

“You’re cheap tonight.”

“I’m giving you the ‘massively relieved you’re not dead’ discount. Enjoy it, because it’s a one-time-only offer.”

“So you won’t be relieved the next time I’m not dead?”

“I’d better never have to find out. Now, pay up.”

Sullivan did. When they broke apart, he matched Sid’s smile with one of his own and gestured towards the trees. “After you.”

Sid bit his lip. “...Wrong way,” he whispered, snickering.

“Jesus...” Sullivan felt his cheeks warm. “I am _useless_ out here, aren’t I?”

“That’s alright,” said Sid, kissing him once more. “Gives you a reason to keep me around.” Then he took Sullivan’s hand and tugged him along. “It’s this way. And don’t let go of my hand until you have to; we can’t have you getting lost all over again, can we?”

“No.” He didn’t want to be lost ever again. Being found, though...if it was like this, then being found was something he could live with.


End file.
